Author name: wrku

You’re in the middle of a work crisis. A deal falling through, a launch tanking, a system crashing. You’re scrambling, fire-fighting, thinking through contingencies. And someone—well-meaning but utterly unhelpful—says:

“Don’t stress. It’ll all work out.”

That’s like telling someone drowning to “just relax.”

At some level, they’re right. Stress, biologically speaking, makes you worse at solving problems. It clouds judgment, tightens the chest, makes your world shrink to the problem at hand. It doesn’t fix the issue; it just makes it feel heavier.

But brushing stress away with empty optimism ignores the obvious—some things require you to push, to hustle, to actively work the problem.

The Paradox of Letting Go

There’s a strange truth about reality: the more desperately you chase something, the more elusive it seems. It’s why job offers show up when you stop hunting obsessively, why ideas flow when you’re not trying to force them.

Somewhere, in the fabric of things, there’s an unseen law at play—things tend to align better when you act without desperation. When you move forward knowing you’ll figure it out, rather than fearing that you won’t.

Hustle Still Matters

But here’s the thing—letting go isn’t the same as doing nothing.

It means working without panic. Taking action without clenching. The most effective people aren’t the ones who never stress, they’re the ones who don’t let stress dictate their moves.

So yes, it will work out. But also, yes, get back to work.

Most websites today are obsessed with knowing everything about their visitors. How many people came? Where did they come from? How long did they stay? What did they click on? Analytics tools promise insights, growth, and optimization. But what if you just… didn’t track anything?

What Happens When You Remove Analytics?

At first, it feels unsettling. There’s a sense of control in knowing your numbers, and letting go of that can feel like flying blind. But then, something shifts. Your blog becomes a place, not a machine. A space for words to exist without constantly being measured.

The Benefits

1. Pure Privacy – Readers get a clean, private experience. No cookies, no scripts, no surveillance.

2. Speed – Your site loads faster. No analytics means no extra requests slowing it down.

3. Less Mental Noise – You stop obsessing over traffic spikes and dips. The pressure to optimize fades.

4. No Compliance Headaches – No need to worry about GDPR, CCPA, cookie banners, or privacy policies.

The Trade-offs

1. You Don’t Know Who’s Reading – No pageviews, no location data, no engagement metrics. Just silence.

2. No Feedback Loops – If a post resonates, you’ll only know if someone tells you directly.

3. No Error Tracking – You might not notice broken links or pages unless a reader reports them.

So, Why Do It?

Because not everything needs to be measured. Not every blog needs to be a content funnel, a conversion machine, or a data-driven growth experiment. Some writing is just… writing.

A Middle Path

If you still want a sense of what’s happening without tracking users, here are some alternatives:

• Server Logs – Your hosting provider likely keeps raw access logs, which give basic visit data without invasive tracking.

• Privacy-first Analytics – Tools like Plausible or Fathom offer lightweight, cookieless analytics. This blog might end up using one of them.

• Direct Engagement – Encourage emails, comments, and discussions instead of tracking passive views.

Bottomline

Do you write to be read, or do you write to be measured? If it’s the former, maybe you don’t need analytics at all. Let the words stand on their own. If they matter, people will find them. And if they don’t, no amount of tracking will change that.

For centuries, Europe extracted wealth, resources, and human capital from the rest of the world, fueling its industrial revolution and empire-building. Yet, when we look at Europe today, a striking paradox emerges: the very nations that once pillaged the globe now struggle to maintain relevance in an increasingly multipolar world.

Take Britain, for instance. A nation that colonized and drained vast territories, most notably India, now finds itself in economic decline. Economist Utsa Patnaik estimated that Britain owes India $45 trillion in reparations for its colonial loot. To put that in perspective, Britain’s entire GDP today is barely $3.3 trillion. If it were to repay what it stole, it would cease to exist as an economic entity.

This reveals an uncomfortable truth—Britain (and much of Europe) was never truly “rich.” It was merely propped up by theft, and without its empire, its actual productive capacity was weak. The empire was its lifeline. When the empire crumbled, so did Britain’s status.

The Myth of European Innovation

There’s a persistent myth that Europe’s wealth came from its own ingenuity. But history tells us otherwise. The industrial revolution was fueled by stolen cotton from India, enslaved labor in the Americas, and free-flowing capital extracted from colonies. London and Paris thrived because the world paid the price. When that supply chain of exploitation was cut off, these economies began to stagnate.

Compare this to Asia. China and India were once among the world’s richest economies before colonization. Now, freed from European plunder, they are rising again, not through conquest but through productivity. Meanwhile, Europe, which had centuries of stolen advantage, now clings to relevance with outdated institutions like the EU, internal economic crises, and declining global influence.

The True Cost of Colonization

Colonization wasn’t just about looting wealth—it also destroyed economic structures in the colonized nations, making them dependent and delaying their natural growth. India, for example, had a 25% share of global GDP before British rule. By the time the British left, it was reduced to less than 3%.

But what did Britain do with this stolen wealth? It squandered it. Instead of building a sustainable economy, it created a rentier system—living off past gains without producing new ones. Today, its industries are weak, its politics is fractured, and its economy is floundering.

Europe’s Future: A Declining Power

As Asia, Africa, and Latin America reclaim their agency, Europe faces a harsh reality—it is no longer the center of the world. It doesn’t have the colonies to sustain its illusion of wealth anymore. It lacks the productive power to compete with rising economies.

The European model—built on extraction rather than creation—has run its course. Without the ability to loot, Europe has little left to offer. The debt it owes the world is greater than the wealth it possesses. And that is why, in a truly global accounting, Europe is a net loss.

In India, the milk you drink might not be milk.

It could be detergent. Or shampoo. Or urea. Or a little bit of all three.

The paneer in your sabzi? It might be made from refined oil and synthetic chemicals. The spices in your kitchen? Laced with artificial colors and lead salts. The tea leaves? Burnt leather shavings. The ice cream on a hot day? Made with industrial starch. The sweets at festivals? Adulterated with washing powder.

This isn’t an exaggeration. It’s the market.

And it doesn’t stop at food.

Fake medicines are sold freely—expired pills repackaged, life-saving drugs replaced with chalk powder. In any sane country, this would be a crime worthy of capital punishment. Here, it’s just another day in business.

And then, the army was sold fake coffins.

Think about that. A country where even death isn’t spared. Where the most sacred, the most sensitive, the most irreplaceable is up for fraud. What chance does the rest have?

Hygiene? Not even a discussion. Rotten meat, rebranded and sold fresh. Open drains, next to street food stalls. Water mixed with sewage, running through the city’s veins. A fly in your food is not a sign of negligence, it’s a sign of affordability—after all, the cleaner places charge more.

And if someone does check? A bribe here, a favor there. The problem disappears.

Road safety? We build highways without barriers, intersections without signals, roads that flood at the first sign of rain. The seatbelt is optional, the helmet is for show, the traffic lights are mere suggestions.

Industrial safety? Gas leaks. Factory fires. Workers suffocated, crushed, burned. And when a building collapses, the rescue effort is a race against corruption as much as it is against time.

Labour laws? The richest in the country tell you to work 90-hour weeks. The poorest are forced to work without rights, without rest, without dignity.

The milk is not milk.

The medicine is not medicine.

The food is not food.

The rules exist—but only as long as no one pays to make them disappear.

There are people who have won the game of life—or at least, the version they chose to play. Wealth, recognition, influence. They built their world meticulously, insulating themselves with tailored experiences, curated relationships, and an unspoken understanding that reality, as most know it, is optional for them.

And then, every once in a while, something breaks through.

Maybe it happens on a spontaneous walk through an old neighborhood. Or at a roadside stall where they stop, just for a moment, to taste something made without pretense. Or in a conversation with someone who has nothing to sell, nothing to prove—just a life that, despite its lack of polish, seems oddly… full. A life where the kids spend time with the parent bcause they want to, a life where they go where they please, have no attachments holding them back from moving base, can connect deeply with strangers without an inherent suspicion of them. 

For a fleeting second, they see it. The alternate path.

A life that wasn’t optimized for net worth, but for richness of a different kind. One where laughter doesn’t cost a fortune, where stress isn’t manufactured, where joy isn’t an accessory to be displayed but a natural state of being.

And then—almost immediately—the thought dissolves.

The pull of their world is strong, too strong. There are schedules to keep, assets to manage, investments to track. There’s an identity to uphold, one that doesn’t allow for such sentimental musings. And so, they slip seamlessly back into their carefully constructed reality, the moment of clarity filed away as an odd but forgettable detour.

Because the problem with seeing outside the bubble—just for a moment—is that it makes staying inside it feel just a little less real.

The fruit seller outside your building is not just a vendor. He is a master strategist, a risk-taker, an economist, and an endurance athlete—all rolled into one.

Before the city wakes up, he’s at the Mandi, navigating the chaotic ecosystem of middlemen, buyers, and wholesalers. It’s a high-stakes game. Buy too little, and he loses customers. Buy too much, and half his produce rots in the sun. He has no storage. No fallback. He bets on instinct and years of experience.

Then comes logistics. Unlike a fancy startup with VC money and a fleet of delivery trucks, his supply chain is a single wooden cart, maneuvered through potholes and relentless traffic. No GPS, no CRM, no AI-powered demand prediction. Just muscle memory and intuition honed over decades.

And then, the real battle begins—the society gates.

The same people who don’t blink before paying ₹3,000 for a movie date at PVR, or ₹450 for a salad at a fancy café, will argue over ₹2 with him. They will demand free dhaniya (coriander) as a right, inspect every fruit like a forensic scientist, and then tell him that online grocery stores offer a better deal.

He smiles. He bargains. He absorbs the indignity. Because he knows that while they discuss his pricing, they are sipping artisanal coffee that costs more than a day’s worth of his earnings.

Why does he do it?

Because he is an entrepreneur in the rawest form.

• He understands supply and demand better than most MBA grads.
• He adjusts his pricing dynamically, something businesses spend crores on in consulting fees.
• He manages perishable inventory with zero wastage, a feat most retailers still struggle with.
• He has no brand, no marketing budget, no tech, but he has customer loyalty.

And yet, the world sees him as just a vendor.

But if resilience, adaptation, and real-time business acumen define entrepreneurship—then cart vendors in India are the original entrepreneurs, long before startups and buzzwords existed.

Next time you see him, don’t haggle. Pay the extra ₹5. Take the dhaniya with gratitude. Because you are not just paying for vegetables—you are paying respect to a system that has survived despite all odds.

Most websites today are obsessed with knowing everything about their visitors. How many people came? Where did they come from? How long did they stay? What did they click on? Analytics tools promise insights, growth, and optimization. But what if you just… didn’t track anything?

What Happens When You Remove Analytics?

At first, it feels unsettling. There’s a sense of control in knowing your numbers, and letting go of that can feel like flying blind. But then, something shifts. Your blog becomes a place, not a machine. A space for words to exist without constantly being measured.

The Benefits

Pure Privacy – Your readers get a clean, private experience. No cookies, no scripts, no surveillance.

Speed – Your site loads faster. No analytics means no extra requests slowing it down.

Less Mental Noise – You stop obsessing over traffic spikes and dips. The pressure to optimize fades.

No Compliance Headaches – No need to worry about GDPR, CCPA, cookie banners, or privacy policies.

The Trade-offs

You Don’t Know Who’s Reading – No pageviews, no location data, no engagement metrics. Just silence.

No Feedback Loops – If a post resonates, you’ll only know if someone tells you directly.

No Error Tracking – You might not notice broken links or pages unless a reader reports them.

So, Why Do It?

Because not everything needs to be measured. Not every blog needs to be a content funnel, a conversion machine, or a data-driven growth experiment. Some writing is just… writing.

A Middle Path

If you still want a sense of what’s happening without tracking users, here are some alternatives:

> Server Logs – Your hosting provider likely keeps raw access logs, which give basic visit data without invasive tracking.

> Privacy-first Analytics – Tools like Plausible or Fathom offer lightweight, cookieless analytics.

> Direct Engagement – Encourage emails, comments, and discussions instead of tracking passive views.

The Real Question

Do you write to be read, or do you write to be measured? If it’s the former, maybe you don’t need analytics at all. Let the words stand on their own. If they matter, people will find them. And if they don’t, no amount of tracking will change that.